Lonely at the Top
by Scarlet Secret
Summary: It's a hard fall from the top for Rita Skeeter but will Hermione be able to catch her before she hits the ground? Not slash
1. Chapter 1

"_Everybody knows my name,_

_Still it's just a crazy game,_

_It's lonely at the top."_

"Miss Skeeter, what is your reaction to the recent developments?"

"What do you really think of Harry Potter's allegations that the Dark Lord has returned?"

"Is it true that you withheld information about the Dark Lord's return?"

"Do you have any fears that the Death Eaters you named might seek vengeance?"

It was not until a swelteringly hot afternoon in August that Rita Skeeter realised quite how annoying reporters could be and for a brief moment she felt a spark of sympathy for all the people she'd interviewed…alright harassed, over the years. However, it passed.

"Listen up you lot, I'm only going to say this once! I have no fears regarding the Death Eaters, I completely believe Harry Potter, and as of a few weeks ago, everything I know about the Dark Lord's return – you know. Now if you'll excuse me."

"But Miss Skeeter…"

"Oh, just piss off!"

Rita pushed past them and after them following her up the path to her home, she immensely enjoyed slamming the door, first into a trendy-looking man's foot and then into all their faces.

She knew she should have just gone into her living room and poured herself a drink, or gone and taken the bath she'd been wanting since breakfast; but whatever Goddess persuaded her to transform and find out what the reporters were saying about her, she never knew.

"No wonder she won't reply, not like she's got anything interesting to say."

"But she knows loads! Would it kill her to share? Just because she's retired doesn't mean we all want to."

"I still can't believe she did retire, she was the best."

"WAS the best babe, let's face it, Rita Skeeter is past it. She used to be massive but the ugly bitch just gave up, paving the way for much better journalists, like you and me."

With that the trendy-looking man put his arm around on of the women following him and they all disappeared laughing, Rita didn't doubt, at her expense.

Past it! How dare they, if there was one thing Rita Skeeter was most definitely not…to hell with them. I'll show them!

With the kind of glint in her eyes that had been known to scare grown men, Rita settled herself at her desk and found that nothing came out. She'd got nothing on anybody any more. Unless you counted that revolting business involving Fudge and his Under-secretary, but everybody knew about that, at least vaguely, and there was absolutely no need to go into _those _gory details. The Wizarding world wasn't quite ready for that. Truth be told, Rita herself was still quite queasy about it.

"Come on, think brain think!"

After ten minutes of staring very angrily at her paper and quill, as though daring them to think of something before she did, Rita decided she needed a drink.

Now as this is Rita Skeeter and she does nothing by halves, when she decided she needs a drink it roughly translates into "I'm going to drink myself into oblivion". Very similar to when she was just starting out in the world of journalism and she told her superior that she admired him, which translated into "I want you", that was his theory at least and thus was how Rita got her first big break.

As it was, after three Firewhiskeys Rita thought it might be nice if he was still in charge, giving her the chance to rise again, like a bloody phoenix.

_A-ha!_

The Order. There absolutely HAD to be something about at least one member of the Order of the Phoenix that she could expose, if for nothing else than to be able to afford some decent shampoo, but then…little miss perfect would just HAVE to ruin it someway.

Stupid girl. Stupid girl with her stupid morals and stupid ideals about being _honest_, like anybody in the Wizarding world was honest! And Rita knew for a fact there were certain things about some of the Hogwarts staff that little miss perfect would definitely turn her nose up at.

And she needed another drink. And a smoke. Cigarettes were a luxury with her these days, since being deprived of her livelihood there was no way she could keep up with some of her more expensive habits. Stupid girl.

Knowing it would be a moment she need to savour Rita made sure that her first drag lasted a very long time; when it eventually did finish she had a revelation about her writing. She could give up journalism completely and start writing tacky romance novels! Surely it couldn't be that hard. Love wasn't _that _complicated, all her friends had managed to get married…except her…and the prospects of love weren't looking too great…

She needed another drink.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione Granger was in high spirits for the first time in a long while. Now that Voldemort's return had become public knowledge it was actually safer to walk down streets. Although the Minister had long since accepted that the Dark Lord had returned it had taken him a good month to actually do something about it; and even then it had only been under some blackmail on Dumbledore's part.

Hermione didn't know what information the headmaster held over the Minister but she would dearly love to be told. Perhaps she could find out on this little excursion.

For the first time in Hermione's memory she was actually looking forward to seeing Rita Skeeter. Horrible though the woman undoubtedly was, she had also proven to be highly useful when it came to getting things done for Harry, which is why Hermione was now walking up the street to her house. She needed another article.

Not for her own benefit of course, but for Harry's, his grief after Sirius' death was nothing less than painful to watch and so Hermione had formulated a plan. If Sirius' name could be cleared, perhaps that would offer some comfort to her friend. Hence the reason she was now knocking on Rita's door. She briefly wondered if this was the wrong house but as Remus had given her pretty much step-by-step instructions on how to get there, and even offered to come along, she felt sure this was the right place.

She had given up wondering why somebody like Remus would know the exact location of Rita Skeeter's home, it was a question that Hermione positively feared the answer to.

She knocked a second time, no reply. She knew Rita must be in there as she had seen several younger looking reporters, each wielding a pad of parchment paper and a quill walking dejectedly away from Rita's house, muttering about something Hermione would never repeat.

Vaguely she could hear music coming from inside and so she moved to the big bay window a little further on than the door. Though a gap in the curtains she could see Rita sprawled out on the sofa, her eyes were closed and she most definitely did not look asleep.

Leaping back in front of the door she began banging on it loud enough to wake the dead…

Oh no, don't think that Hermione! The silly cows probably just hit her head or something…she can not be dead, I won't allow her to be dead!

Deciding that the Ministry's underage rule was a thing she was willing to risk, Hermione quickly scanned the area to make sure no muggles were present and then subtly whispered "Alohamora". The door opened and Hermione could hear the music much louder already.

She dashed into the hall slamming the door behind her, the crashing coinciding with what appeared to be the chorus of a song Hermione recognised. Ignoring a strange sound from the door right up ahead she rounded a corner into Rita's living room.

The first thing she noticed was that it was very dark; then she noticed at least four stubbed out cigarette ends on the otherwise immaculate wooden floor, lying very close to a bottle of firewhiskey. And the next thing she noticed was that it was empty.

And that damn song was still playing! The strands of the song followed her across the room as she reached Rita.

"**I'm loosing my faith in you…"**

If she'd been in a right mind Hermione would have felt for a pulse to ensure that Rita was in fact but she couldn't bring herself to touch the fragile looking woman. She'd always thought that Rita was indestructible, with her nails and rigid hair and everything else about her that was fake and hard, but now…

The reporter was most definitely herself for the first time in Hermione's memory. Her hair was in curls that were loose and soft looking. Her face was free of any make up and Hermione was amazed at how striking the older woman was, she had always been under the impression that Rita must be hideous if the made-up-Rita was anything to go by, but her face was soft and her jaw didn't look think at all anymore.

The only things left of the Rita Hermione knew were the nails, but now even they just seemed more like a fashion statement than the claws she was used to. Her robes were flung across the back of her surprising tasteful three-piece suite, revealing a plain, silky black slip. This compared with everything else made Hermione think that Rita looked even more fragile, porcelain skin against black.

And yet Hermione didn't touch her. What she did was scan the room for some method of alerting the medical authorities that Rita Skeeter had quite obviously overdosed. She didn't know on what but somewhere in her gut Hermione knew that Rita had tried to kill herself. And that damn song would not stop!

"…**And I welcome your sweet 666 in my heart."**

_Who can I contact? I doubt somehow that Rita is the owl type!_

The thickness of the room was already giving Hermione a headache so she left Rita on the sofa and went out the front door, making sure not to let it shut.

She jumped as a neighbour opened their door and came out with thunder on his face; should have turned the music off! The second he saw Hermione he began to shout.

"Tell me your not HER," here he pointed through the door, "daughter? I don't think the world could survive if there were two of her!"

"No I'm not." Rita Skeeter's daughter indeed!

"Good, well can you tell your…Aunt…friend…employer, whatever to turn the god damn music down, I've got a kid in here and she bloody well knows that!"

"I'll turn it off if I can borrow you phone?"

The look on the man's face was priceless but surely the muggle hospitals could do something. Firewhisky had the same properties as normal Whiskey didn't it? And she couldn't have taken any _really _bizarre drugs, could she?

_Come on Hermione, bizarre is what Rita Skeeter DOES!_

Before the man could reply there was a smash from inside, not loud enough for him to hear, but enough for Hermione. Without a second look back she went inside and crept slowly into the living room.

For the second time that day the first thing she noticed was the bottles, then the cigarette ends, then the décor, but Rita was nowhere to be found.


End file.
